


House of Gold

by andemily



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Neglect, Enjolras has no chill ever, F/F, F/M, Gavroche is a little shit, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marius is clueless, Multi, Revolution, The Thénardier siblings deserve better, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-06-27 22:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andemily/pseuds/andemily
Summary: “Family” isn’t defined only by last names or by blood; it’s defined by commitment and by love. It means showing up when they need it most. It means having each other’s backs. It means choosing to love each other even on those days when you struggle to even like each other. It means never giving up on one another.”- Dave Willis(the one where Courfeyrac, Marius, and R sort of adopt Gavroche)





	1. Even If You’re Little You Can Do A Lot

**Author's Note:**

> bonjour, welcome to my story. I’ve been working on this since the beginning of summer and I’m so excited to share this with everyone. Enjoy! 
> 
> ~ e

“ _I'm gonna take care of things_

_There's things I need to sort out_

_I'm gonna take care of things_

_They're not where I need them right now_

_I know there's good in everything_

_And it'll show itself when you're gentle to it_

_ _I'm gonna take care of things_ _.”_ _

_-_ Cavetown 

Marius Pontmercy has never been labeled as ‘punctual’. 

In the words of his roommate, Courfeyrac, “he follows the beat of his own drum”, or in other words, he’s always falling behind schedule. 

Meetings at the Café Musain always begin promptly at five fifteen, mainly for the purpose of trying to accommodate to Marius’s tardiness. 

École de Saint Michel dismisses its students at three fifteen, therefore Gavroche Thénardier, the youngest member of Les Amis de l’ABC has two hours to do whatever he pleases before the meetings begin. 

It had begun snowing during fourth period, much to the boy’s aversion.

While a large majority of his class gets to go home and build snowmen until their fingers go numb, he has to be concerned about where he was going to spend the night.

Snow is great when it’s in a small amount, but when it snows continuously throughout the day it becomes more of a nuisance than a delight. 

His little grey shack in the slums dubbed ‘the elephant’ doesn’t have electricity, let alone a heating system. It’s either freezing or scorching, there is no in between. 

It’s a little shabby, but it’s Gavroche’s home so he loves it all the same. 

He slung his tattered hand-me-down backpack over his shoulder and walked down the street, wrapping his right arm tightly around his stomach in order to try to muffle the sounds his hunger pains were projecting. 

Gavroche had given his lunch away to another student, Navet, who had forgotten lunch money today. 

He’d rather have himself go hungry than his best friend. 

That’s what friends do; they take care of each other no matter what. 

The boy was near the cathedral where the same father- daughter pair stood everyday with baskets filled with bread for those who can’t feed themselves. 

Both figures were familiar to Gavroche, though he couldn’t exactly put his finger on where else he’s seen the pair besides doling out bread. 

They certainly didn’t look like former members of the Patron Minette, they were too clean and dressed too fancily. Then again, that really doesn’t mean anything, anyone can hide behind posh clothes, just ask Montparnasse. 

“Gavroche, aren’t you going to take some bread?” 

The boy watched as the girl’s smile faltered a bit when she heard his name, before turning to his two young friends, Jacques and Hugo.

Jacques and Hugo had been taken under Gavroche’s wing a few months ago at the beginning of the school year when he noticed them trying to fend for themselves on his streets. 

It was only meant to be a temporary partnership between the three boys, however the two of them proved to be loyal companions, so Gavroche decided to keep them around. 

It had only been a few months, but a few months is all you really need to decide if you’d give your life for someone else or not. 

And Gavroche would surely die and live for his boys. 

“I’m not hungry, but you two definitely should. I’ll be fine.” 

Jacques and Hugo nodded their heads in perfect synchronization before running over to the line forming. 

Not long after saying goodbye to his young friends, he sauntered into a bakery, the very same one that had fired his sister, Azelma, not too long ago, trailing behind a couple of tourists insistent in trying an authentic French baguette. 

The bakery was just as his sister described it; snobby and uncomfortably stuffy. 

Gavroche stayed close to the couple he entered with that way the employees would hopefully assume that he was their son, thus preventing him with being met with peering judgemental eyes watching his every move. 

As soon as the employees and the pair of tourists were all occupied with selecting the right baguette, the boy swiped a loaf of bread from a shelf and tucked it underneath his jacket. 

It was almost too easy. 

Gavroche pushed the door of the bakery open and ambled our back into the street, taking off in the direction of the Musain, all while grumbling to himself about how ice makes it harder to run on the cobblestone streets. 

“You there!” 

The child stopped in his tracks before pivoting on his left foot to face Javert, the captain of the police force and the bane of Gavroche’s existence. 

“Who me, officer?” 

Javert huffed before marching towards the gamin, or in his mind the young delinquent who needed to be straightened out before escalating into a big time criminal in his teenage years. 

“Yes, you. You’re the little knave that blindly follows those anarchist school boys around, correct?” 

Gavroche blinked, not a tad bit insulted at the officer’s comment. He decided right then and there that Javert could be the amusement that this dreary day was lacking. 

“Interested in going our crusade, Inspector? I could put in a good word with the chief for you if you wish it.” 

Javert frowned. 

“I do not wish it.” 

The boy shrugged, having already expected that answer. 

“Suit yourself, I guess.” 

Javert knows the boy’s background well, more specifically the swine that are his parents.

What he was unaware of was the fact that Gavroche’s parents kicked him out into the streets to fend for himself when he was six. 

He had spent a night in the “General of Waterloo Inn” when it was open, only to be swindled out of one hundred euros with their incredulous room expenses and the contents of his suitcase had been stolen, costing him altogether about three hundred euros. 

Needless to say, the officer has a vendetta against the Thénardier family, though he had a small soft spot for the boy. 

The little gamin reminded the man of the child he was many years ago.

“As if I'd ever betray my post. You’d best stay away from those students, the lot of them are criminals and I do not let the wicked go unpunished.” 

Gavroche rolled his eyes at Javert’s odd sense of sentence fluency and wondered if the man realized how ridiculous he sounded.

He found himself staring at the man’s unusually large polished black snow boots instead of listening to his lecture. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

The boy picked his head up, snapping back into the context of the conversation. 

“I’d say yes, but my sister taught me not to lie.” 

Javert rolled his eyes at the gamin’s comment, then examined the boy who was most likely in some sort of trouble as he had been running before the inspector commanded him to halt. 

“Why were you running just now?” 

Gavroche shrugged, not wanting to explain himself. 

“Running gets me places quicker than walking, I don’t see why you had to stop me, it’s not like I hurt anyone.” 

Javert shook his head, clearly not buying what Gavroche was trying to sell. He meticulously examined the boy, and noticed the loaf of bread tucked under his arm, which the inspector took.

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t steal this?” 

Gavroche nodded his head, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. 

“Yeah, so if you’d give that back it’d be peachy.” 

Javert looked down at the bread in his hands, before looking back at the boy. 

“Do you have any proof that you purchased this and that you’re not a liar like your father.” 

Gavroche tilted his head, growing more annoyed that the conversation was still going on. 

“I don’t have a father-” 

Javert shook his head, interjecting about something he truly wouldn’t understand and cutting the boy off. 

“It’s not right for a child to lie, lying is-”

Gavroche rolled his eyes, growing more fed up with the officer acting like he was above everyone else. 

“I don’t have a father, and if you’re asking to see my receipt, I don’t have one.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because I don’t keep receipts. Are we done here? I thought police officers are supposed to catch criminals, not harass ten year olds on their way home from school.”

Javert’s eyes widened at the cocky response he had received from the boy who was less than half of his height. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to respect authority figures, young man?” 

Gavroche almost laughed at the older man’s statement, though he kept his signature crooked smirk on his face instead. 

“I feel like that’s a question you already know the answer to. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my merry way, I’ve got places to go, people to see, you get the drill, officer.” 

Javert was growing more and more aggravated at each of Gavroche’s one liners. 

“But your parents must’ve at least taught you something, correct?” 

“My parents? Oh Monsieur, you’re mistaken. I don’t have parents, I’m on my own out here.” 

Javert was outraged with the responses he was receiving from the ten year old. The Justice System should not be mocked by anyone, especially not by an underage anarchist. 

“You belong in a cell you little-” 

A snowball collided with the officer’s face before he could finish his sentence, and Gavroche stood proudly with a shit-eating-grin. 

Javert had dropped the loaf as soon as the snowball made impact with his face, which gave the boy just enough time to scoop up his bread before running off. 

Gavroche was scuffing up the freshly fallen snow with his sneakers and crowing merrily as he went. While all of his classmates were out catching snowflakes on their tongues he was hurling snowballs at the captain of the police. 

This is all a big game to him, after all. 

The city of Paris is the urchin’s kingdom, and he is their crowned prince. 

“Why are you in such a chipper mood?” 

The boy looked up to see Grantaire, a man who always shows up to the meetings at the Musain, despite not believing in the cause itself. 

“I stole some bread and I would’ve gotten caught if I hadn’t thrown a snowball at that old bat Javert. It was so exciting, you would have laughed if you had seen it.”

“You don’t have to steal every time you’re hungry, kiddo. I could’ve given you money, and you could’ve gotten something at the café.” 

The boy shook his head as he ripped off a piece of his baguette, offering some to his friend, who politely declined. 

“There’s no fun in that at all, R.” 

The two of them walked for a while, in silence before the boy piped up. 

“You’re not going to tell my sister about this, are you?” 

Grantaire sighed before shaking his head. 

“Have I ever let her in on any of your secrets?” 

The shit-eating-grin returned to Gavroche’s face and Grantaire sighed. 

The man had been in the kid’s shoes before, and he didn’t want his young friend to fall down the same dark hole that he had, though he knew that if Éponine found out she’d never let the kid hear the end of it. 

“God, you’re so much like me it’s scary.” 

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, it’s just a loaf of bread. I’m sure the inspector will get over it.” 

Grantaire shrugged, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. 

“I guess you’re right, kiddo. Next time come to me or Courf when you’re hungry and we’ll give you money to buy something, alright?” 

The boy nodded, wiping some bread crumbs on his hands on his pants. 

“How was school today?” 

Gavroche cringed, remembering about the letter in his backpack that he was instructed to give to his legal guardians, who are still technically his biological parents. 

Not that they cared about him anyways. If it hadn’t been for Éponine, who was ten at the time he was born, he wouldn’t even have a name. 

All the Thénardiers have done for the child is place a target on his back, much to Gavroche’s discomfort.

The school system was completely unaware of the fact that the child lived in a small shack in the slums, parentless, without a care in the world. 

“Can we _not_ talk about school?” 

Grantaire blinked, surprised at the ten year old’s answer. 

Usually the pair of them discussed the younger’s school day right before meetings, why was this day any different? 

Their routine had been solid for a few months, Grantaire and Gavroche would discuss school on the way to meetings, they’d sit through painfully boring lectures and then maybe, just maybe, Grantaire would sneak his young friend a swig of liquor. 

Gotta teach them young, right? 

“You usually love talking about school, did something happen? ” 

Gavroche tore off a bit of his bread and stuffed his mouth, in a half-assed attempt to dodge the question. 

“Well, I got called to the office again.” 

Grantaire closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that implied that his favorite Thénardier had gotten in trouble again. 

“What did you do?” 

The child in question raised his hands in defense. 

“Nothing!” 

The elder of the pair rolled his eyes, then looked down at the boy. 

“Gavroche-”

“I didn’t do anything! They just gave me an envelope to give to my parents, and the school’s expecting them to show up for parent teacher conferences tomorrow and I’m in deep shit!” 

It was a lot for Grantaire to process. 

“You’re smart, Vroche. You’ll think of something.” 

Gavroche nodded. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

The café was rarely busy on Thursday afternoons, thus being one of the reasons that meetings almost always took place on Thursday afternoons. 

In the corner of the room sat Gavroche’s oldest sister, Éponine, who was talking quietly to Courfeyrac, who is one of Gavroche’s favorite people. 

There is no doubt in the boy’s mind that she is only staying around in hopes of being able to talk to that noodle Marius Pontmercy. 

Gavroche has never understood why Éponine could never find the courage to just tell Marius the feelings she’s harboring for him. 

Éponine is the strongest person Gavroche knows; she’s stood up to the wolves that parented them and wanted criminals, yet she can’t tell this dolt that she has feelings for him. 

The whole situation is mind boggling to him. 

“Hey little man, how’re you?” 

Gavroche turned his head to see Musichetta, the equivalent of a ‘cool aunt figure’ in his life. 

“I’m a bit alright, Chetta. A little hungry, though.” 

Musichetta tapped her fingers on the counter of the bar before coming up with an idea. 

“If you wipe down the counter and shovel the sidewalk out front I’ll get you a chocolate muffin, alright?” 

There’s a vast difference between getting things out of other people’s charity and earning things on your own. 

Musichetta understands that. 

Gavroche has always liked her because of this. 

She and her partners, Joly and Bossuet evened each other out perfectly in the child’s opinion. Joly worries enough for the lot of them and keeps them healthy, Bossuet’s misfortune brings them memorable stories, and Musichetta keeps them sane. 

“Think you can handle it, kid?” 

The child waved his hand at her dismissively. 

“Of course I can.” 

He saluted her with his hand before climbing over to the side she was standing on.

“Is Azelma coming tonight?” 

Gavroche shrugged, not really knowing what the second oldest Thénardier child gets up to on Thursday nights. 

Azelma was far less predictable than Éponine, therefore making her a puzzle to her brother. 

“I’m not sure. She doesn’t really get out much, I guess. Why do you want to know?” 

Musichetta nodded her head at Feuilly, the young student only a few years Azelma’s senior, who was carefully drawing on a fan with a wooden pencil. 

Gavroche had always been a bright kid, therefore he quickly put two and two together, and realized that Feuilly was making the fan for his sister.

The boy was quite relieved that someone as harmless and kind as Feuilly was interested in Azelma, and that he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting her heartbroken. 

The same can not be said about Éponine. 

After grabbing a washcloth, the child started wiping down the counter quickly, as a loaf of bread didn’t fill his stomach. Growing children need food, and his stomach rumbled every few minutes to remind him of this. 

That muffin sounded pretty good right about now. The sooner this counter was clean, the sooner he could have one in his stomach. 

While wiping down the counter, he was reminded of the little blonde girl that used to help him out with his chores, whose name he no longer remembered. 

Thoughts of her eventually escalated into thoughts about his parents, and Gavroche knew that he was metaphorically on thin ice and that at any given second he could plummet into a tangent about the wolves that mistreated him, his sisters, and that blonde girl who name was on the tip of his tongue. Colette or something like that. 

As soon as the counter received Musichetta’s approval for being clean enough, Gavroche set off with a shovel in hand to clear the sidewalks. 

That’s when all the trouble started. 

The child was halfway done with the sidewalk when a familiar silhouette caught the corner of his eye. 

“Go away, Montparnasse.” 

Montparnasse clicked his tongue at his boss’s son, not a tad bit insulted at the rudeness in the boy’s tone. 

“You haven’t even heard what I’ve had to say yet-” 

Gavroche stood up straight, leaning on his shiver a bit. 

“Whatever the job is, my answer is no. Get lost.” 

“Your father was arrested last night.” 

The boy didn’t believe him, as Montparnasse was prone to lying. 

“I doubt that.” 

Montparnasse was not in the mood for explaining the whole ordeal to the ten year old, so he just sighed. 

“It’s true.” 

“Whatever, leave me alone.” 

“The job is risky, but it pays a lot. We need someone to crawl through an air vent, think are down for that?” 

Gavroche looked down at the snow, experiencing one of the few moments he was actually speechless. 

Something was telling him that the master assassin wouldn’t kid around about his employer being thrown behind bars. 

“Can I have time to think about it, Parnasse?” 

The young man sighed in frustration before nodding. 

“I’ll be at Pont Alexandre III at midnight tomorrow, be there.”

The child nodded, before going back inside the Musain just in time to listen to Enjolras tell Marius off for being late despite the group rescheduling the meeting twice to prevent this. 

He sat at his usual spot at the bar, devouring a chocolate muffin, thinking of how he could solve all of his problems by tomorrow. 

Assisting in a jailbreak was the least of his problems right now, as he needed to find someone to pretend to be his father for the conference tomorrow.

Asking Courfeyrac would be the ideal route to go, but Gavroche knew that his best friend had a class during the time the meeting was scheduled. 

He went down the line of his friends, crossing most of them off as options. 

Marius is too bumbling and he’d mess everything up, Jehan and Feuilly looked too young and everyone else seemed to have classes during that time, leaving only one option. 

As soon as Enjolras finished up his speech and everyone broke into their own separate conversations, Gavroche made his way over to his best friend who was drinking out of a bottle, per usual. 

“I need your help tomorrow, can you pretend to be my dad?” 

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t want to be your father.” 

Gavroche grinned. 

“Perfect, you already know all your lines.” 


	2. Life is not a Disney Movie and Thénardiers Don’t Get Happy Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a brief conversation with Éponine, Gavroche and Grantaire go to the child’s school for a parent teacher conference. Things do not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour loves, welcome to the second chapter! I hope you enjoy this and if you did feel free to leave a kudos or a comment because those really make my day :) 
> 
> Side note: 
> 
> I know that Gavroche’s brothers don’t have names in the novel so I just chose Jacques and Hugo. 
> 
> Have a lovely day/ night or whenever you’re reading this
> 
> ~ e

“'Cause _ my feet are on the ground, _

_ and the inner voice I found _

_ tells the truth, "There's no use, _

_ if your head's in the clouds" _

_ With my feet on solid earth, _

_ I can face the fates that hurt, _

_ and in time, I'll be fine, _

_ I'll come 'round _ .” 

\- Gary Barlow 

Éponine Thénardier is exhausted. 

She spent the entire night wandering around, not caring if she was slowly catching a cold because of the temperature. 

A little bit of snow wouldn’t do her much damage, and the twenty-year-old could manage a head cold as well. 

The streets are always quiet in the mornings, which she appreciated to an extent because the limited amount of noise reminded her of the countryside, where life was better. 

That was where her little sister and her would spend hours playing with dolls in their father’s inn, and where Gavroche took his first steps and ran right past her arms. 

Éponine smiled softly at the memory, closing her eyes in attempt to imagine her cherub looking little brother with his bright blond curls which were now a brownish gold.

The jubilant memories transitioned into the miserable ones quickly, after all, the bad outweighs the good in a three to one ratio. 

She remembered the night their father plucked his son from her arms,and she didn’t do anything,too mortified about what was going to happen to move. 

The girl had been sixteen at the time, and she’d never forget the betrayal in Gavroche’s eyes as she watched helplessly as he was carried into the car, kicking and screaming as he went. 

Éponine often thought about that night, wondering about the fact that if she had done something differently perhaps none of that would’ve happened, and Gavroche wouldn’t have grown up alone. 

She also wonders if he’s ever forgiven her for being a bystander. 

“Good morning!” 

The chipper greeting brought her back into reality and out of the world she has created in her head. 

The twenty-year-old turned her head quickly to see her younger brother, who has seemed to just pop out of nowhere. 

“Good morning.” 

Gavroche and Éponine have always been morning people, so encounters like this typically occurred a lot on the streets of Paris. 

This version of her brother was much different from the one she used to take care of at the inn. 

His golden brown curls were overgrown similar to how weeds grow if one doesn’t reap them from one’s garden, and his face almost always has some type of dirt on it. 

Gavroche was also entirely too skinny in Éponine’s opinion and she was almost positive he wasn’t eating enough. 

“Have you had breakfast?” 

The boy shook his head, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. 

“I don’t usually eat breakfast, I’m more of a brunch guy.” 

Éponine playfully rolled her eyes. 

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Vroche.” 

“I’m not hungry. And hey, what about you? Have you eaten anything or have you been walking around all morning drooling over Marius?” 

Éponine felt her face turn pink, as she tucked a lock of her unruly dark auburn hair behind her ear. 

“You’re too little to understand. Monsieur Marius and I are close friends.” 

She internally grimaced as she said it, knowing that she wanted a more complex relationship status than ‘ friends.’ 

Besides her siblings and a few acquaintances at the Musain, Marius Pontmercy is her only source of happiness. 

Gavroche, who had grown very talented at reading people from his years of living on the city streets rolled his eyes. 

“If you say so.” 

Something clicked suddenly in her mind and she looked down at the boy, clearly concerned about something. 

“It’s almost eight, you’re going to be late for school!” 

Éponine doesn’t need to worry about herself being late for classes anymore, as she had opted out of attending the university, even though she got a hearty amount of money taken off of her tuition because of scholarships she qualified for. 

She’s got kids to look after and would sacrifice her future to ensure that theirs are bright. 

Gavroche is a smart kid, smarter than her anyways.

Her goal was to get him to take school seriously so when the time comes he would be able to get a few dozen scholarships and attend a school out of this Godforsaken city. 

“It’s parent teacher conference day, there’s no classes.” 

The arrangement for Grantaire to pose as his father had already been made, along with plans for the pair of them plus Courfeyrac and Marius to go out for dinner, an invitation which the child begrudgingly accepted. 

Gavroche Thénardier is no charity case; he doesn’t accept free food and he doesn’t beg. 

Courfeyrac had been so persistent though and the child knew there was no way to weasel himself out of this situation so he just caved. 

One dinner wouldn’t be the end of his world, right? 

Éponine sighed as her wristwatch beeped, indicating that she had to start making her way towards the Musain for her shift. 

“I’ve got everything under control, as long as my teacher doesn’t ask too many questions I’ll be in the clear.” 

Gavroche had fallen through the cracks of child protection service’s system; as he no longer lived with his parents and he had no intention of being sent to a foster home so he just kept that fact to himself. 

Not even the members of Les Amis de l’ABC know about him sleeping in ‘the elephant’ or the Musain, and he intends to keep it that way, not for the pleasure of keeping it a secret, but to ensure that nothing changes. 

The only people that know are his family and Grantaire, who was enlightened with the fact that his little friend lived on the streets by accident, and was sworn to secrecy by Gavroche’s overprotective sisters. 

As much as they wished that their brother could live with them, they both knew that it wouldn’t be safe, and that their little brother would have a much better life living outside of that hellhole. 

Éponine sighed at her brother’s sudden seriousness; her little brother shouldn’t have to worry about the things he can’t control. 

“When you’re all grown up you’re going to buy me a big house on the beach with a picket fence, and we’ll never have to worry about this stuff, alright, Gav?” 

He nodded, as his usual shining smile returned to his face. 

“I’ll make you queen of everything in sight, Ponine. And we’ll live happily like those characters in the books mom used to read to you and Azelma” 

She laughed, before embracing him suddenly, and kissing the top of his head. 

Gavroche wrapped his arms around his sister’s waist, wishing that the two of them could experience more moments like this. 

It was Éponine who broke the hug, when her wristwatch beeped again. 

“I have to get going. Stay out of trouble for me, alright?” 

“No promises!” 

Éponine laughed, then turned on her heel, and continued to walk towards the Musain, unintentionally beginning to think about what it would be like to live in a big golden house with a white picket fence with Gavroche, Azelma, and Marius. 

As for Gavroche, he was ducking through crowds of tourists, on his way to the flat Grantaire shares with Marius and Courfeyrac. 

His day is filled to the brim with things he has to do, starting with the conference, then begrudgingly going out to dinner, and ending with meeting Montparnasse on the bridge at midnight. 

Grantaire stood outside of the apartment building as was expected of him, and for once in his life he isn’t wearing that green flannel shirt he always wears. 

“Bonjour, little man. How are you today?” 

Gavroche wiped his nose with his sleeve, before shrugging his shoulders. 

“I’m alright, my back is just stiff that’s all.” 

Secretly sleeping on the counter at the Musain is just as comfortable as it sounds, and it left the boy feeling pretty sore.

The pair of them approached Grantaire’s car, however the man stopped Gavroche before the boy could sit in the passenger seat. 

“Nope, you’re sitting in the back.” 

Gavroche furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I’m old enough to ride shotgun, R. Courf lets me do it all the time.” 

Grantaire clicked his tongue, shaking his head. 

“I know that’s a lie, because he was the very person who told me not to let you sit in front. If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable, Gav.”

The boy sighed in frustration before opening the car door and situating himself in the back right seat. 

Grantaire twisted his key in the ignition and the pair of them were off. 

About a minute or two into the ride, the pretend father broke the silence. 

“Do you want to listen to the radio?” 

“As long as it’s not country music, that stuff is awful.” 

The man laughed at that and pressed the button only for a news report about the arrest of a few members of the Patron-Minette to begin broadcasting. 

Gavroche felt his stomach churn, as he remembered what was expected of him from the members of his father’s gang, something he wanted absolutely nothing to do with. 

He told himself that this would be a one time deal because of the danger laced in the job, but every time the boy says that he’s done no one ever seems to listen. 

Grantaire turned the radio off quickly, and the two of them rode in silence until the man parked in the school’s parking lot. 

Together they sat in the school’s cafeteria, along with some other parents who Gavroche strongly urged Grantaire to ignore. 

“Don’t you want to go talk to the other kids?” 

Gavroche looked up from the man’s phone, which he had graciously lent to the boy so he could play cup pong with Courfeyrac, who should be focusing on his pre law seminars. 

“Navet’s last name starts with an A, so he already left. They go by the alphabet.” 

Grantaire sighed inwardly, almost wishing he didn’t sign up for this. 

“So we’ll be here for a long time then?” 

The boy shook his head, swiping his finger on the screen, launching the ball into the digital red solo cup. 

“Not necessarily.” 

“Gavroche Jondrette.” 

The boy swallowed the lump in his throat as his name was called and he stood up, expecting the man posing as his father to do the same. 

Grantaire was utterly confused as to why they addressed his young friend with a surname different than the one he usually went by. 

“Jondrette?” 

The question was whispered that way Gavroche’s teacher wouldn’t overhear their quick conversation. 

“I’ll explain later. Come on,  _ dad _ .” 

He stood from his chair and followed his pretend son into the room, becoming a little concerned when the door was closed behind him. 

The pair of them sat in chairs across from the teachers desk, both equally as nervous. 

“Good afternoon Mr. Jondrette.” 

It took Grantaire a moment and a small kick from Gavroche to remember that when the teacher spoke she was addressing him. 

“Yes, good afternoon.” 

The boy sitting beside his pretend father was fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands out of embarrassment. 

“How much trouble is he in?” 

Gavroche raised his eyebrows, startled by the question his best friend asked his teacher, a little offended about the assumptions that were made. 

“I haven’t done anything.” 

The teacher took a deep breath before speaking. 

“Mr. Jondrette your son is quite possibly the brightest child I’ve ever had the privilege of teaching at École de Saint Michel, and I’ve been an educator here for a long time.”

She slid a pamphlet titled ‘how to make sure my gifted child is stimulated at home’ across the desk. 

Grantaire blinked before looking over at his pretend son, who shrugged. 

“So he’s not in trouble he’s just smart?” 

Thoughts of Gavroche, sneaky little Gavroche who has him wrapped around his little finger secretly being a genius were a little surprising but not too foreign to comprehend.

The boy was at the top of his class and it seemed like there was no curriculum the school could throw at him that could change his impeccable grades. 

“He must get that from his mother.” 

Gavroche bit down on his lip in attempt to not laugh at his pretend father’s statement, as the two of them both know that Madame Thénardier is by no means a mathematical genius. 

She went on explaining how the boy was way above average and that he had a bright future ahead of him, which made Gavroche a bit prideful. 

It was also nice to have a father that seemed interested in his life, even if it was make believe and none of this was really true. 

Sometimes it’s nice to pretend. 

The conference did not take long, which Gavroche supposed all of the members of the party were thankful for. 

Grantaire walked out of his pretend son’s classroom, holding about six pamphlets about science fairs and spelling bees. 

Gavroche stayed uncharacteristically silent until they left the school building. 

“Thanks.” 

The man looked down at his young friend who looked uncomfortable and almost embarrassed. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Gavroche kicked a pile of snow with his feet, grumbling about how much he hates snow to himself. 

“So you go by Jondrette at school? Am I supposed to ask about that?” 

The kid blinked, keeping his gaze straight ahead. 

“You kinda just did, R.” 

Grantaire laughed. 

The boy pulled the car door open and slid into the passenger seat, not really wanting to discuss the subject any further. 

“ Éponine thinks it’s safer for no one to call me Thénardier at school. I don’t really care though, I’m not afraid of anything.”

Grantaire laughed again at the kid’s attitude and decided that having him sit in the front seat wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

“How is that sister of yours?” 

Gavroche looked up from Grantiare’s phone, which he had stolen from the cup holder beside him. 

“I’ve got two sisters, R. You’re gonna need to be more specific.” 

The man took a sharp turn, causing the boy to grab his side door in a panicked fashion. 

Grantaire has never really been the best driver, so him making turns at the last possible second was normal for him. 

Gavroche on the other hand doesn’t ride in cars often, so it was safe to say that he was a little shaken up. 

“You drive like a maniac!”

“Maybe you should put your seatbelt on then, kiddo.” 

The child quickly grabbed his seatbelt and clicked it in, deciding that he’d never ride in a car without one again. 

Not long after the incident, Grantaire parked in the street in front of his apartment building, then looked over at Gavroche. 

“If you’re ever in one of those spelling bees let me know and we’ll get everyone from the Musain to go, alright little dude?” 

The boy smiled at that, as that was exactly what he needed to hear right now. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me, you don’t have to pretend anymore.” 

“Pretend what,  _ son _ ?” 

Gavroche rolled his eyes as the pair of them went into the apartment building and raced up the stairs. 

“I win!” 

Grantaire chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Only because I let you.” 

“There you two are!” 

The pair of them turned their heads in perfect synchronization, to see Marius and Courfeyrac outside of their apartment. 

“What are you guys doing out here?” 

Courfeyrac sat up from the spot he was sitting in and brushed off his pants. 

“We were waiting for you to get back.” 

Gavroche tilted his head. 

“You could’ve waited inside.” 

Marius looked down sheepishly. 

“I left my key on the kitchen counter and Courf couldn’t find his either.” 

Grantaire fished through his pockets for a few seconds before pulling out the little silver key, which he used to open the door. 

The apartment the three men shared wasn’t too grand and was decorated with a few paintings on the walls all signed with a signature swoopy ‘R’. 

“Did you paint all of these?” 

The man in question laughed in a sheepish manner before steering the kid towards the couch. 

“Can you teach me?” 

Grantaire nodded, sitting in his arm chair before tossing his young friend a bottle of water which had been grabbed from the kitchen by Courfeyrac. 

“Maybe some other day, I’m quite exhausted from playing the role of your father.” 

Gavroche rolled his eyes playfully as he twisted the cap off of the water bottle. 

“You’re taking that way too seriously.” 

Courfeyrac sat beside the boy on the couch, and Marius followed suit, nose buried deep in his phone. 

“Show your father some respect, Gavroche.” 

The child being teased, probably the most mature person in the room, stuck his tongue out before looking over at a stack of unorganized movies. 

“What’s that over there?” 

Grantaire perked at the kid’s question and decided that he’d be the one to answer. 

“That, my young friend, is Courf’s collection of Disney movies which he was supposed to organize.” 

Courfeyrac crossed his arms. 

“I would’ve organized them if I could’ve gotten into the flat.” 

Gavroche stood up from the couch, to sit on the ground cross legged in front of the stack of DVDs. 

He cautiously picked up one and read the title internally. 

“What’s  _ Aladdin _ ?”

The question shocked the three students so much that even Marius looked up from his phone. 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at his young friend. 

“It’s a movie. You  _ have _ watched Disney movies, right?” 

Disney movies were basically the foundation of Courfeyrac’s childhood. 

Gavroche nodded. 

“I think so. Wait, yeah I’ve seen one it was the one with the prince.” 

Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Almost all of them have princes, kiddo.” 

The boy’s face went red, as he hadn’t known this tidbit about the animated movie franchise. 

“ It had.. Right, It had lady with the glass slipper. I never got to finish it though.” 

Marius sat up where he was sitting, putting his phone upside down on the arm rest beside him. 

“That’s  _ Cinderella _ . The prince finds her and they lived happily ever after.” 

_ Cinderella _ was a movie that hit a little too close to home for Gavroche’s liking. 

Two spoiled sisters? Check. 

One blonde girl doing all the work? Check. 

Éponine and Azelma bad been cruel to the girl whose name Gavroche no longer remembered simply because their mother told them to. 

His sisters certainly wouldn’t do anything their mother ordered them to nowadays. 

Not anymore. 

The boy blinked, hoping that the girl whose name he no longer remembered who had left the inn with a muscular looking man when he was three found a Prince Charming and got the happily ever after that she deserved. 

There aren’t any happy endings for Thénardiers. 

“Can we watch  _ Aladdin _ ?” 

Grantaire blinked, at the childishness in the boy, who always seemed too grown up for his own good. 

“Yeah, yeah of course.” 

Gavroche didn’t watch a lot of movies growing up, as by the time he was six he was already on the streets. 

His childhood certainly didn’t have Disney movies and happy endings as its foundation. 

Grantaire has put the movie in, and smirked a little at the boy’s expression as soon as the animated hero was getting chased for stealing bread. 

The man knew something the two students on the couch didn’t, and the secret was gnawing at him. 

It was supposed to snow pretty hard during the next few nights, and he was desperate to find a way to get his pretend son off of the streets. 

In Grantaire’s opinion, this kid deserves the entire word not only because of the hell he had endured at an early age, but because of his optimism that life would be better one day. 

Maybe that day was today. 

“I think we’re just gonna order a pizza, that sound alright to you, Gav?” 

Gavroche blinked, his conciseness snapping back into Paris and away from Agrabah. 

“Sounds perfect, thanks.” 

As soon as the kid’s focus was back on the movie he gestured for Courfeyrac and Marius to meet him in the kitchen. 

“I don’t want him sleeping on the street tonight. I’m going to the store to buy an air mattress we can set up in the living room.” 

Marius blinked, having been completely unaware of the child’s living situation. 

Gavroche is very good at manipulating conversations by randomly changing topics that way no one ever uncovers the truth. 

“He’s been sleeping on the streets?” 

Grantaire nodded gravely, knowing that the boy would be all kinds of pissed if he happened to overhear this conversation. 

“Yes. It’s supposed to be really cold tonight I don’t want him getting hypothermia or anything like that.” 

Courfeyrac remembered the storm that the meteorology professor was chatting about with his professor at the university a few hours back. 

“I think I have a sleeping bag in the closet. It’s Peppa Pig themed, but I’m sure he won’t mind.” 

Marius raised an eyebrow at this. 

“Courf why do you have a Peppa Pig sleeping bag?” 

“What are you hens clucking about?” 

Gavroche has the awful tendency about popping up out of nowhere undetected, something he had just done now. 

“Nothing!” 

Marius Pontmercy is notorious for being a terrible liar. 

The redhead bit down on his lip, and the boy smirked knowing that he could crack him easily. 

“What were you talking about Marius?” 

Grantaire sighed, knowing that this was not going to end well, as Gavroche was just as stubborn as Éponine. 

“Kiddo we want you to spend the night here. It’s going to be too cold and the streets aren’t safe trust me I-”

“You told them?” 

Courfeyrac and Marius stepped back, nervous about the fight that was brewing. 

“Gavroche listen-” 

Gavroche balled his hands into fists. 

“You knew I didn’t want anyone at the Musain to know! I am fine on my own and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 

The man was trying his hardest not to lose his temper and lash out at the boy because that was the last thing this scene needs. 

“Please just let us help you.” 

Gavroche shook his head. 

“I am not charity case Grantaire nor am I a stray dog you can just take in from off of the streets. I don’t need your help.” 

Grantaire snapped, banging his fist on the kitchen counter. 

“For someone so smart you’re acting incredibly stupid right now.” 

And with that the child stormed towards the door, deciding that he’d help Montparnasse with the prison break. 

The job would be dangerous, but it would pay well enough to put him, Jacques and Hugo up in a nice hotel until this whole winter storm was over. 

He’d do it for his boys, and to prove to Grantaire that he can take care of them and himself without any help. 

Gavroche slammed the door behind him, ignoring Grantaire‘s “get back here young man”, and pretty soon found himself trudging his feet in snow. 

Montparnasse was waiting for him at the meeting point, looking pleased with himself that the boy showed up after all. 

“You’re early.” 

Gavroche shrugged, not really wanting to explain himself. 

“So what, I didn’t have anything else to do.” 

“I knew you’d be here, Thénardier. You can’t ignore this part of yourself forever, kid.” 

The child rolled his eyes at the statement before looking back in the direction he had walked from the apartment in. 

“I’m not like that, Parnasse. Just tell me what I need to do I can get my share.” 

Montparnasse laughed at the boy’s bluntness. 

“I’m not going to sugar coat this because I think you’re grown up enough to understand that this job will be incredibly risky-”

Gavroche shook his head, cutting the man off. 

“I’m not scared, Parnasse. If anything you should be scared about what my sisters will do to you when they find out you roped me into this.” 

__


	3. The Great Escape (Operation Child Endangerment)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavroche, a ten (almost eleven) year old assists Montparnasse and the rest of the Patron-Minette in a prison break and a father is reunited with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonjour, 
> 
> I’m sorry this took so long, I’ve been pretty sick for the past few days so I kind of procrastinated finishing this. There’s a few references to Stranger Things in this story and I’m very pleased with how it came out. I hope you all enjoy and if you did leave a kudos or a comment because those really make my day.   
> Also go on YouTube and search Lindsey Stirling “Phantom of the Opera”, as this piece is featured in the chapter.   
> Have a lovely day/ night or whenever you’re reading this. 
> 
> ~ E 
> 
> • WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES A FEW OF THE TOPICS TAGGED IN ADDITIONAL TAGS, SO I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING THOSE BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE, PLEASE STAY SAFE AND REFRAIN FROM READING THIS IF ANY OF THESE TOPICS TRIGGER YOU BECAUSE I WOULD HATE FOR SOMEONE TO BE HURT BECAUSE OF WHAT I WRITE. STAY SAFE, DARLINGS. • 
> 
> enjoy!!

“ _ I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy _

_ Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low _

_ Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me _ _. _ ” 

\- Queen 

Gavroche instantly regretted his decision as soon as Brujon sauntered towards him and Montparnasse on Pont Alexandre III.

This man has plagued his nightmares just as often as his parents, though he’d never admit that to anyone, and he certainly wouldn’t show his fear now. 

“Look who it is, the prodigal son has returned.” 

Brujon’s physical description matches that of a bear; a towering build with broad shoulders, muscular limbs, beady eyes laced with malice, and a sinister grin.

The boy shifted uncomfortably where he was sitting, knowing that if the man wanted to, he could snap Gavroche’s arm in half like a toothpick. 

“How did you manage to get even smaller from the last time I saw you?” 

Montparnasse decided not to engage in the conversation, as he has too many other things to worry about, so he just looked over at the Seine which had frozen over and picked nonexistent dirt from his fingernails. 

Gavroche rolled his eyes, deciding to adopt the bravado that his sister had when dealing with this animal of a man. 

If Éponine can stand up to criminals so can he. 

“My sister isn’t afraid of you and neither am I. Go pick on someone your own size.” 

Brujon laughed at that, a terrible condescending laugh which made Gavroche want to test out the boxing moves Grantaire taught him on the beast. 

“Why is this four year old talking back to me?” 

Gavroche balled his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. 

“I’m almost eleven you bald mother-” 

“Gavroche, that’s enough.” 

The boy rolled his eyes before dropping the argument. 

“You’re not afraid of tight spaces are you?” 

Gavroche shook his head, wanting to say that he wasn’t afraid of anything, but that comment didn’t seem incredibly truthful anymore. 

“Good,you’ll be climbing through a vent for most of the job.” 

Gavroche kicked a small pile of snow with his shoe before turning to Montparnasse. 

“You would’ve made me climb through the vent even if I was claustrophobic, wouldn’t you?” 

Brujon chuckled at the child’s frustration before tousling Gavroche’s hair, grinning when the child flinched at the sudden physical contact. 

“Still keeping this hair long, I see.” 

If looks or glaces could kill, Brujon would be a goner. 

“Stop bothering the kid, we need him focused if this is going to work.” 

Gavroche and Montparnasse then shared a nod, and the child realized that even if it didn’t seem like it, the master assassin has his back no matter what and would not tolerate bullshit from anyone. 

The boy has known Montparnasse for as long as he could remember, the silhouette of a man acted as a bit of a role model to him, for Montparnasse sees a lot of himself in Gavroche. 

He understands the boy’s codes about charity and hesitation for accepting help because he was that boy, and he got through it so he knew Gavroche could too. 

This is why Montparnasse sat silently and nodded while his young friend ranted about Grantaire and how he didn’t want to accept a home from his best friend. 

He encouraged him to reconsider the offer, wondering that if someone got him off the streets when he was the boy’s age life would be different from the hell he was living. 

It was about one in the morning, and all three members of the trio were starting to grow tired so it was him acting as leader while his boss sits behind bars to order for a five minute break so the plan could be discussed. 

Gavroche felt his stomach churn when he learned that the whole operation rests on his small shoulders. 

“This is child endangerment.” 

The master assassin raised an eyebrow at the kid’s blunt statement. 

“I will be in radio contact with you the entire time, it’ll be perfectly safe.” 

Gavroche scoffed at that. 

“Easy for you to say, you’ll be completely out of harm's way calling the shots. Child Endangerment, I rest my case.” 

Montparnasse laughed at this before standing up, watching as the other two followed suit.

“Brujon, you take the lead. I’ve got some things to discuss with Gavroche.” 

The mountain of a man began walking and Montparnasse ushered for the to fall back a little in their walking pace. 

“You alright, sparrow?” 

Gavroche shook his head. 

Small seeds of doubt have begun planting in his mind, for he realized how badly this could turn out if he was caught. 

“Éponine would kill me if she knew I was out this late.” 

Montparnasse laughed a little, knowing that his young friend wasn’t exaggerating. 

Even when they were kids Éponine was extremely protective over her baby brother. 

She had always been maternal towards him, and in a world full of changes Montparnasse was glad that this remained true throughout the years. 

The man took out a box of cigarettes, pulling one out and holding it between his fingers before offering the child the box. 

“Smoke?” 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

Montparnasse raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re good?” 

Gavroche looked down at his beat up sneakers, making a mental note that he’d need to snag a new pair sooner than later. 

“I’m really not supposed to.” 

Montparnasse smirked. 

“And you’re not supposed to be assisting a prison break either, but here you are. One won’t kill you, Gavroche.” 

The boy hesitantly pulled one from the box and stuck it in between his chapped lips. 

“Don’t you want a light?” 

Gavroche shook his head. 

“I think it looks a lot tougher if you don’t light it.” 

Prison is one rabbit hole no street kid ever wants to fall down, so he felt a bit uneasy as the trio found themselves looking up at the prison building. 

“Climb through the fence, crawl to the ladder, go to the roof, get in the vent, find the room with all the buttons, turn off unlock the cell blocks.” 

The plan was simple, however any missteps or wrong calculations could land him in the big house. 

“Good luck kid, let me know when you’re on the other side.” 

The child nodded, before taking a deep breath and sprinting towards the gate and the hole that only he as small enough to fit through. 

Gavroche crawled through with ease, before crawling onto his stomach and the walkie talkie in his hand to his face. 

“Parnasse, I did it.” 

Montparnasse, on the other side of the walkie talkie sighed in relief. 

“That’s good, sparrow. You’re not out of the woods yet though.” 

Gavroche stayed low to the ground and began army crawling through the snow over towards the main building with an exterior made of grey cinder blocks. 

The child couldn’t help but think of the awful things he had said to his friends as he started climbing the ladder which was the next step of Montparnasse’s plan, fittingly dubbed ‘Operation Child Endangerment’. 

It wasn’t like Grantaire maliciously told Courfeyrac and Marius the boy’s living situation, he was probably very well spoken about the sensitive matter.

‘One foot in front of the other, don’t you dare look down.’ 

This is the advice Gavroche kept telling himself as he climbed higher and higher, grasping the ladder as if it were his lifeline. 

One false step could lead him to fall towards the ground and encounter an untimely death. 

He exhaled heavily when he reached the roof before whipping out his walkie talkie again and ducking against the edge where he couldn’t be seen from those down below. 

“Parnasse, I’m on the roof, do you copy?” 

Montparnasse wasn’t too fond of the idea of using walkie talkies, however at Gavroche’s insistence he bought them. 

If the kid was risking his neck to help out the least the master assassin could do was humor him. 

“Be careful kid, I’ll be guiding you through the vent system, so don’t worry about getting lost.” 

Gavroche crawled over to the vent and too out his screwdriver in order to unscrew the covering on the entrance. 

Righty tighty, lefty loosey. 

The child carefully pulled the cover off and laid it down on the floor beside him before taking a deep breath and climbing into the vent system. 

He began army crawling on his stomach while humming the Mission Impossible theme song much to Montparnasse’s aversion. 

“Turn right.” 

Gavroche turned right, his mind began to wander to happier things, like how he was wearing the scarf Jehan knitted him for Christmas.

The scarf is red, which is the boy’s favorite color simply because it’s also the favorite color of Enjolras, who is never seen without his red bomber jacket. 

Enjolras is everything that Gavroche wants to be when he is older; an intelligent law student, with a commanding presence and a passion for justice. 

No wonder why Grantaire is so deeply in love with him. 

Gavroche shook his head, chiding his thoughts. 

“I shouldn’t think of R, not now.” 

“Stop!” 

The boy halted suddenly before bringing the walkie talkie closer to his mouth.

“Am I above the room with the buttons?” 

A snigger could be heard over the walkie talkie before Montparnasse answered. 

“Yes. I need you to get in there and create a diversion as well as cut the power keeping the cells locked. Can you do it?” 

Gavroche laughed before taking out his screwdriver and unscrewing part of the screen off. 

One kick was sufficient enough to knock off the screen completely. 

“Of course I can, Montparnasse.” 

After securing his screwdriver back in his bag, he took out a pair of latex gloves and put them over his hands, mortified at the thought of being traced down to this crime because he was careless enough to leave fingerprints laying around. 

“Wait, Parnasse how am I supposed to get down?” 

The other line was silent for a few seconds before the master assassin offered up and answer. 

“Try to land on your feet, kid. We need to move this along.” 

Gavroche looked down, something one should never do when they’re up high and took a deep breath. 

It certainly was a struggle to get down in one piece, but when you’re a child who was abandoned at the tender age of six, you’re used to challenges. 

“I’m in.” 

Montparnasse let out a sigh of relief, grateful that the child hadn’t gotten himself into any trouble. 

“Do you see any guards?” 

Gavroche glanced around the empty room, eyeing the control panel only a few feet away. 

“No, the room is empty save for me.” 

The boy took the burner iPod, something so old he didn’t know they were still manufactured and put the headphones from his bag into his ears. 

Lindsey Stirling’s cover of “Phantom of the Opera” began playing in Gavroche’s ears as he approached the control panel, his eyes darting across it in search of the button he needed. 

Why the guards left this room unoccupied he’d never know, because with the press of a few buttons all hell could break loose. 

The control panel appeared to be a lot more complicated than Gavroche had anticipated, however it wasn’t hard to comprehend because the boy just happened to be a genius when it came to technology. 

He quickly discovered the sequence of buttons he would need to press in order to complete his share of the job, though he hesitated. 

Gavroche paused his music and raised his walkie talkie to his mouth, pressing down the button that allowed him to speak into the built-in microphone. 

“Montparnasse?” 

The master assassin answered almost immediately. 

“Is something wrong, Gavroche?” 

The boy shook his head, before remembering that he could not be seen. 

“Promise me that you’ll go straight.” 

Montparnasse sputtered, having been caught off guard by his young compatriot. 

“Kid, we don’t have time for this.” 

“I’m not doing anything until you promise me.” 

Gavroche knows how life operates when you’re in a gang. 

You either die on the job, or you spend your life on the run regretting your actions. 

He doesn’t want that for Montparnasse. 

“Gavroche-”

“Promise me.” 

“Okay, I promise.” 

The boy grinned before signing off to his friend, and letting his music resume play. 

He fiddled with the control panels in the exact combination that he had created internally earlier, thus doing his share. 

A deafening alarm began blaring in the room and Gavroche wasted no time scurrying up a shelf and back into the vent he had came from, being sure to leave no trace of his presence behind. 

There was no way in hell that he was getting tied to this crime, absolutely not. 

The air vent seemed much less spacious than it did before, though Gavroche concluded that this was his mind playing tricks on him and that there was no way the air vent shrunk within the small amount of time. 

“Angel of Music” was distracting the boy from thinking of the consequences of being caught, for the violin music always seemed to lull the boy into a superficial sense of safety. 

Perhaps that this was due to the fact that Èponine used to bounce him on her lap while listening to Mozart. 

It took roughly two minutes for Gavroche to navigate his way through the air vent system until he was able to climb out onto the roof, just as “Music of the Night” flooded into his ears. 

Fresh air had never tasted so good to the boy, and he was ever so delighted at how the snow was falling, just in time to fill in his footprints. 

Having no time to waste, Gavroche scurried across the roof over to the ladder he had used earlier that night, beginning to climb down at a speed that would make one of his favorite super heroes jealous if seen. 

Prison breaks are no cake walk, but if conducted swiftly and properly, the outcome can be oh so satisfying. 

The money he’d be paid for completing this could feed his boys for the foreseeable future, and they’d no longer live off of other people charity and put them and his sisters up in a hotel room with windows that don’t, thus keeping them safe from the dangers he knew all too well from living in the streets. 

If Enjolras and the rebellion he was plotting for a time not yet disclosed to the child, he’d never have to worry about such things again. 

As soon as Gavroche’s feet hit the snow he took of running, muttering silent prayers as his ears absorbed the ending of “Phantom of the Opera”. 

He ran out into the street with his heart literally pounding out of his chest and kept running until he reached the meet up location in a dark alley illuminated only by a lone streetlight, somewhere the authorities would never check. 

It was roughly two-thirty in the morning, only an hour and a half since the operation had begun, and Gavroche wasn’t even a tad bit tired. 

“Well, well, well.” 

The boy whipped his head around, thus shaking his head of curls. 

There stood Thénardier and the other members of the Patron Minnette, minus a familiar master assassin. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” 

Gavroche stood up straight before peeling off his gloves and shoving them into the side pocket of his backpack along with his iPod. 

“Just give me what I’m owed, and I’ll be on my merry little way.” 

Thénardier laughed at his son, looking more like a wolf than a person. 

“I gave you life, you little shit. I don’t owe you anything.” 

The boy’s mouth tightened into a firm line. 

“Montparnasse said-” 

“It’s irrelevant what he said, that dandy bastard decided to go straight. He’s dead to us.” 

Gavroche shook his head, not believing this for a second. 

“I need that money, you don’t understand.” 

Gavroche Thénardier felt used, and disappointed in himself for letting the ones he was supposed to help down. 

Thénardier shook his head at his son, an evil glimmer in his eye. 

“You’ve certainly proved me wrong, boy. Now that I’m positive you’ll be useful to the Patron-Minette and that you’re so desperate for money, I’ll have you start pushing deliveries.” 

Gavroche’s eyes widened and he tried to back away, but before he could Brujon wrapped his dirty fingers that have touched only God knows what around the child’s forearm, thus preventing the little bird from taking flight. 

He shook his head, trying his best to not piss in his good pair of pants out of fright. 

“You can’t make me! Let go!” 

Thénardier had never really had a laissez faire approach to parenting, so it was no surprise to anyone when he gripped his son’s jaw with his hand tightly before letting go. 

“You’re going to make me so much profit, street rat.” 

Gavroche summoned up all the courage he had left and spat at the man’s boot. 

“I refuse.” 

Thénardier scoffed. 

“It’s not like you have a choice, kid. You’re my son, you’ll do what I tell you to do.” 

The boy scoffed in mockery of his father, which made the man’s face go a little red. 

“If you don’t let me go I’ll scream, and the cops will find you.” 

Thénardier smacked the boy across the face for having the courage to snap back at him. 

“This isn’t a negotiation. It’s time you learned your place.” 

Gavroche struggled to free his arm from Brujon’s grasp, but unfortunately his attempts were met with failure. 

“Absolutely not, I’m not delivering your drugs, I’m not like you.” 

Thénardier shook his head, clicking his tongue at the boy. 

“That’s because I’ve had years of practice. Stick with me, and I promise you’ll get there one day.” 

The boy shook his head. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

As soon as he was done speaking he stomped his foot on Brujon’s as hard as he could, just as Bahorel taught him to and took off into the night, even though his body was nearing exhaustion. 

Gavroche knows the streets well, for they have belonged to him for five years, so it was not that difficult to lose the three grown men chasing him. 

Montparnasse knows where ‘the elephant’ is, so by default the rest of the crew knew also, so the boy ran past the slums, knowing very well that he couldn’t stop there. 

Éponine would be absolutely furious if she knew about the conversation that had just occurred. 

She’d volunteer herself in Gavroche’s place, preferring that she’d be a member of the Patron Minette, that way her brother would be left alone. 

The kid has a future, and she’d be damned before she’d let their father take that away from him. 

This twisted situation would’ve been a lot easier if Gavroche had access to a phone, that way he could just call Courfeyrac and beg for him to unlock the door to his apartment. 

The boy doesn’t own a phone, though, so after climbing a fence and racing up a flight of stairs he found himself banging on their door with both hands. 

“Let me in! I’ll behave, just please let me in!” 

The door opened, revealing a very confused Courfeyrac dressed in a white tee shirt, boxers, and a pair of teddy bear slippers. 

He was rather shocked to see the child at the doorstep, as he assumed it would be someone much taller and dandyish. 

“Gav-”

The man was cut off guard by the child wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and burying his face in the man’s stomach. 

Gavroche’s almost inaudible sobs shook the tomcat the most however, as Courfeyrac couldn’t recall a time he saw the firecracker of a child shed a tear before now. 

This was so uncharacteristic, as the boy is always cracking jokes in the Musain or listening to Enjolras speak with a light too bright to be dulled by anything. 

“I made a mistake, a really bad mistake. I’m scared, Courf.” 

The statement was muffled, however it was all the man needed to know. 

“Gav, can I hug you?” 

The boy in question nodded, before his sobs grew a bit louder and the tomcat felt his heart break. 

Courfeyrac slowly hugged the boy, trying his hardest not to cry himself. 

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ve got you.” 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and promising that he would do his best to fix this. 

“I’ve got you.” 

  
  
  



	4. The Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavroche sleeps in a bed for the first time and things don’t end well. Luckily, Courfeyrac is there to lend a helping hand, Marius is armed with a frying pan, and Grantaire is willing to do anything for his favorite young revolutionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonjour, 
> 
> I’m so sorry this took so long, life has been crazy recently but here is the long awaited fourth chapter. I hope you enjoy, and if you do feel free to leave a comment or a kudos, because those make me so very happy. 
> 
> ~ e

“ _Golden slumbers_

_Fill your eyes_

_Smiles await you when you rise_

_Sleep pretty darling_

_Do not cry_

_And I will sing a lullaby_.”

\- John Lennon & Paul McCartney 

Courfeyrac feels like an ass. 

The man felt an immense amount of guilt, for he had been completely oblivious to the fact that when Gavroche wasn’t lighting up the Musain with his presence he was bolting down the Parisian streets away from any trouble he might’ve caused and sleeping in a shack in the slums. 

For someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the truth was seven shades of ugly and equally as haunting.

Subjects that had previously confused him such as Gavroche’s possessiveness when given food, his appreciation for small things such as a cool breeze on a hot summer day, or how untamed his mane of curls always seemed to be suddenly made sense. 

Reality can be a conniving bitch, and perhaps Enjolras’s plans for fighting for the people weren’t as crazy as everyone dubbed them to be. 

The man stands in his kitchen, searching through his pantry for a package of ramen noodles. 

Ramen noodles just happened to be the only thing Courfeyrac knows how to cook without Marius’s assistance and Gavroche seems pretty fond of them so the student was metaphorically killing two birds with one stone. 

The pullout bed had been set up and dressed accordingly to accommodate the little boy asleep in it, and Courfeyrac graciously plopped down one of his memory foam pillows. 

It was easy for Gavroche to fall asleep, as the bed was incredibly comfortable, unlike the sleeping conditions he had gotten used to. 

At first the boy wanted to sleep on the floor but after a short dispute he had caved and before he knew what was happening it was lights out. 

The real challenge for Courfeyrac was pulling a pot out from the cabinet without having the others come crashing down in a disastrous procession. 

Marius was probably asleep, and Grantaire was drunk and irritable in his room, so the tomcat tried to act as diligently and quietly as possible. 

He had almost successfully gotten a medium sized pan out when he heard muffled sobs from the living room and without thinking he dropped the pan which made a sickening rumble on the floor. 

Courfeyrac arrived in the doorway of the living room seconds later, only to be greeted with a heart wrenching scene. 

Gavroche was frantically taking the sheets off of the bed, muttering to himself until he realized Courfeyrac was standing in the doorway. 

The boy hastily hid the sheets behind his back in a half-assed attempt to cover his tracks, then rubbed his eyes to try and hide his tears. 

“Hi.” 

Courfeyrac stepped into the room, eyeing the sheets that were no longer on the bed and the wide awake boy trying to hide them. 

“What are you doing, Gav?” 

The child looked down at his feet as if he were embarrassed about something or caught red handed. 

“I wet the bed.” 

The tomcat blinked at the statement, having been reminded that Gavroche was in fact a child and not some drunk friend he had taken home from the bar. 

A child that was probably scared out of his mind. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Courfeyrac shook his head when the apology was spoken. 

“Don’t be, it happens to everyone.” 

Gavroche’s blueish green eyes locked with the students. 

“You do it too?” 

The tomcat internally cringed before shaking his head, thus disagreeing with his earlier statement. 

Gavroche furrowed his eyebrows, still a little embarrassed about the situation. 

“Then I guess it _doesn’t_ happen to everyone. Do you have a washing machine?” 

The tomcat turned to the boy beside him whose frail body was still shaking a little, either from crawling in the snow or from sobbing just minutes ago.

Hot tears had created clean streaks down his dirt caked cheeks, and Courfeyrac realized that a little soap and water would do wonders for his young friend. 

The tomcat scooped up the pile of dirty sheets, having already decided his plan. 

“I’ll take care of this, you should go shower.”

Gavroche raised an eyebrow at the statement, placing his hand over his chest feigning taking offense to this. 

“Are you implying that I’m dirty, Courf?”

Courfeyrac nodded, a small smile forming as he watched the child pretend to be upset. 

It seemed like Gavroche’s reaction made this morning almost have a bit of normality. 

His little lip shot out as he pretended to be hurt by the comment. 

“Well that’s not very nice.” 

The older of the pair laughed, before crossing his arms. 

“The truth hurts, buddy. You need a shower.” 

Gavroche shuffled his feet a little before looking up at his brother. 

“I guess a hot shower would be nice.” 

Courfeyrac beamed, and his grin seemed to be contagious because Gavroche smiled a little too. 

“See, I told you. Now go wash up, then maybe after you’re done we’ll finish the end of Aladdin.” 

Gavroche pivoted on his foot, turning towards the bathroom before freezing and turning back to make eye contact with his friend. 

“Can you put a chair under the doorknob?” 

The tomcat nodded at the boy’s request, then walked into the dining room and retrieved a wooden chair from its spot at the table, carrying it over to the door and placing it cautiously under the doorknob, just as the boy suggested.

Having grown up as an only child to a set of parents more interested in their several businesses than their son’s happiness left him lonely most of the time, wishing he had a younger brother like some of his schoolmates. 

Courfeyrac then received the brother whom he wanted when a young sticky fingered Gavroche reached into the then nineteen year old student’s pocket fishing for his wallet three years ago. 

He’d do anything for Gavroche, and he knew that the boy would say something likewise if asked what he’d do for the tomcat. 

Ten minutes later the child was scrubbing the dirt that had been underneath his fingernails practically from birth, and styling his golden curls into a spike at the top of his head. 

The exhausted law student stumbled over to the washing machine, wondering to himself if Éponine ever mentioned that Gavroche had nightmares. 

He pushed that thought out of his head almost as quickly as he put the dirty sheets into the machine, remembering that the Thénardiers are private people and they’d never disclose such personal matters. 

From bits and pieces taken from conversations with the siblings, whether it was Éponine, Azelma, or Gavroche himself, Courfeyrac understood that their home life wasn’t exactly ideal. 

Then again, who really has a ‘perfect’ family, Courfeyrac was raised by neglectful business sharks, Marius was lied to his entire life, and Grantaire never spoke of his family so it was safe to assume that they were not on good terms. 

The tomcat was completely unaware of the traumas Thénardier inflicted on his children, his first born son receiving the heaviest blow. 

He gulped nervously realizing that things must be so bad at home that Gavroche couldn’t even stay there, feeling guilty that he hadn’t tried to reach out sooner. 

As soon as the sheets started to tumble around in the washing machine Courfeyrac shuffled into his kitchen, picking up the pan he had dropped earlier, which had been left on the ground. 

This is when he was met with a panic stricken frying pan wielding Marius Pontmercy. 

“Get out of our- Courf?” 

The curly headed man jumped at the sight at almost being pummeled by his roommate. 

“Yes it’s me, who else did you think it was?” 

Marius heaved a sigh of relief before placing the frying pan down on the kitchen counter. 

“Éponine texted me that some guys broke out of jail, telling me to stay safe. I heard the noise so I armed myself. R is asleep, and I figured you were in the shower so I came to investigate.” 

“So you heard a noise and decided to follow it? Smart.” 

Marius crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You would’ve done the same thing, don’t even deny it.” 

Courfeyrac shook his head not wanting to argue with his roommate about whether or not he would’ve followed the noise if their roles were reversed. 

Marius was still confused. 

“If you’re here, and R’s asleep… who’s in the shower?” 

The older of the two students pinched the bridge of his nose, internally scolding himself for forgetting to notify his roommates about the little boy in the bathroom. 

“That’s Gavroche, he knocked on the door until I answered, looking like he had just been a witness for some sadistic shit. He was sobbing about something bad he did, so I told him to take a shower hoping that would calm him down.” 

He decided to leave out the part about Gavroche wetting the bed, as the child was extremely vulnerable and embarrassed during that moment and the less people to know that the better. 

It took Courfeyrac two more attempts before Marius finally understood the context of the situation. 

A grave expression replaced his relieved smile as he connected the dots to the much grander problem at hand. 

“Do you think he’s in trouble?” 

The tomcat bit his lip, wondering if the little boy in the bathroom concerted himself with members of his father’s gang and may have gotten himself into a dangerous situation. 

Courfeyrac quickly walked out of the kitchen, looking around for the television remote control, hoping that he would be able to tell Marius that his hypothesis was ridiculous, but having a feeling of dread start to gurgle in his chest. 

As soon as the remote control was located he turned on the news, feeling his heart thumping outside of his chest. 

The man plopped himself on the sofa, staring wide eyed at his television screen as the news channel Marius frequently watched broadcasted the prison break that Gavroche had been baited into assisting in. 

The screen depicted the familiar large grey cinder block building with searchlights creating vast color dynamics in the pitch black sky and sirens blaring in the background. 

It was unfathomable to think that the small boy, whose focus was fixated on trying all of the settings the shower head offered and rating them, was there at the scene of the crime as one of its horsemen. 

Beside him slouched a tiresome Marius Pontmercy,who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced worriedly at the program, wondering how cataclysmic the outcome would be if the authorities showed up banging on their door. 

The redhead cleared his throat before turning to his roommate who was now sporting a similar expression. 

“This looks really bad. Is the door locked?” 

Courfeyrac nodded, feeling awful that Gavroche had slipped through not only the cracks of Les Amis, but through the cracks of France, as well. 

Their worst fears were confirmed when a mugshot of Thénardier flashed on the screen, just as a familiar little boy snuck into the room the students were occupying. 

“I poured out your shampoo.” 

The students whipped their heads around to find their young friend dressed in an old tee that hung off his left shoulder with his wet hair sticking down on his forehead. 

The boy was holding an empty bottle of vanilla scented shampoo which he had poured down the drain as soon as the triggering scent met his nostrils. 

Thénardier always had the tantalizing aroma of vanilla and second-hand-smoke lingering around him, and Gavroche couldn't handle thinking about his father at a time like this. 

Needless to say, the shampoo’s scent hit a little too close to home for the boy’s comfort. 

“I’ll pay you back for it if it was expensive.” 

The child walked closer to wear the students were sitting and planted himself in Grantaire’s recliner, watching the red and blue flashes on the television. 

The shampoo _was_ expensive, a gift from his mother, but Courfeyrac could think of at least a thousand more important things to discuss with his young friend right now. 

“It’s fine, Gav.”

The boy sighed in relief, before turning to face the pair of shell-shocked students on the couch. 

“Do you two normally watch the news at four in the morning?” 

Courfeyrac smirked a little. 

“Do you usually show up on doorsteps at four in the morning?” 

“Touché.” 

The room fell into an awkward silence save for a few moments, the only noise coming from the news anchor warning citizens to call the authorities if they should have the misfortune of seeing Thénardier or any of his goons in the flesh. 

The boy shuddered a little, his mind taking him back to the last conversation he shared with his father, which had gone as well as you’d think. 

Things were escalating too quickly and sooner or later he knew he was going to have to ask for help. 

Gavroche took a deep breath, preparing himself to confess to everything just as Grantaire stumbled into the living room, holding a bottle by the neck. 

After searching for his young friend for a few hours he returned to the apartment hammered and childless, thus worrying his roommates. 

“What are you two doing up, it’s not even five yet.” 

By that statement, it was pretty apparent that Grantaire hadn’t noticed the child curled up in his recliner. 

Gavroche nodded his chin up in a sort of unspoken greeting and Grantaire tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle in his hand. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The child shifted uncomfortably, feeling too guilty to look into the eyes of his best friend. 

“You said I can always come here if I’m in trouble, so here I am.” 

Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows, letting his curiosity get the better of him. 

“Well what did you do?” 

Gavroche’s doe-like blueish green eyes locked with Grantaire’s. 

“I broke my dad out of jail.” 

The statement was blunt, cutting right to the chase. It wasn’t as if the boy could metaphorically beat around the bush or tiptoe around the problem. 

Grantaire blinked a little shocked at the child’s explanation. 

Sure, he knew about the Patron-Minette and how Gavroche occasionally helped them out in minor conquests, but this, this was too much. 

“You what?” 

The boy gulped before looking up at his friend who was now reprising the role of a father who actually gives a shit about him. 

“I broke my dad out of jail and now he expects me to deliver his drugs.” 

Grantaire blinked, trying to process the statement. 

It was unbelievable to him, and he was hoping this was some sort of elaborate practical joke. 

“Let's do that again, try telling the truth this time.” 

Gavroche furrowed his eyebrows, losing his guilty demeanor quickly. 

“I _am_ telling the truth.” 

“Gav, you’re eight years old-”

The child shot his arms out to cut the artist off. 

“I’m ten and a half ” 

Courfeyrac cleared his throat, thus interjecting himself into the conversation. 

“That’s besides the point.” 

Grantaire rolled his eyes and sat himself on the couch because his usual spot was occupied by his pretend son. 

“I went out to look for you.” 

The statement seemed to be laced with a sadness that went right over Courfeyrac and Marius’s heads. 

Gavroche detected it though, and shrunk a little in his seat. 

“I made a mistake.” 

“Yeah, I’ll say. You royally screwed the pooch this time, kiddo.” 

Grantaire glanced back over at the television before looking at the boy who was sporting a guilty expression. 

“I know.” 

“So your dad is out?” 

The boy sighed, then nodded. 

“They didn’t listen to me, and now it’s not safe for me to be out on the streets. I’m such an idiot.” 

The man clicked his tongue at the boy. 

“Gavroche… shit what’s your middle name?” 

The child sighed. 

“Louis.” 

Grantaire let out a deep breath, finding it funny how two people that shared the same name couldn’t be more different. 

Gavroche’s middle name was chosen after his father’s. 

“Gavroche Louis Thénardier you are the smartest kid I know, don’t ever doubt that.” 

The child let out a laugh, which was strange as he was crying about bed sheets literally an hour ago. 

“That was so cheesy, R. Don’t use my full name, it sounds dumb.” 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, before looking back at the kid, _his_ kid. 

“I think you should stay here for a while, Gav. At least until winter ends. We all know it’s not safe out there for you.” 

Gavroche shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I don’t want to be a bother.” 

Courfeyrac shook his head, denying that statement. 

“Gav, you’re a great kid, you wouldn’t bother us. It’s alright to accept help sometimes.” 

The child thought about that for a few seconds before nodding. 

“The first day of Spring I’ll be out of your hair, alright?” 

The three students on the couch nodded at that, each crossing their fingers behind their backs. 

“Alright.” 


	5. Childhood Traumas and Chocolate Chip Muffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavroche celebrates his eleventh birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonjour everyone, 
> 
> Long time no see, huh? I must’ve rewritten this chapter at least ten times, but I’m finally satisfied with it. Now that I’m on break I’ll be able to get chapters out much faster. I hope you all enjoy and if you do please leave a kudos or a comment because those really make my day. I really appreciate feedback also!!
> 
> Have a wonderful day/ night or whenever you’re reading this
> 
> ~ e

_“ How many times must I keep it inside_

_I need to let go and I swear that I've tried_

_But opening up means trusting others_

_And that's just too much, I don't want to bother_

_So I'll keep it inside and bury it deep_

_I know it's not healthy, but you won't hear a peep_

_Though I'm always sad and I'm always lonely_

_I could never tell you that I'm breaking slowly._ ” _  
  
\- _mxmtoon

Enjolras usually spends his Thursday afternoons scribbling his ideas on how to improve the University he and his friends attend on scrap pieces of paper at the Musain.

It is typically vacant, save for Madame Hucheloup, the owner and resident mother hen of the café, and perhaps a few tourists obsessed with taking pictures for social media that Enjolras hasn’t scared away yet. 

“You really ought to fix your handwriting.” 

Enjolras whipped his head around to find a young golden haired boy leaning against the counter. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” 

Gavroche shrugged before beginning to unzip his jacket, which probably wasn’t his because it was hanging loosely on his body. 

“I could ask you the same question, you know. I got sent home early, what’s your excuse?” 

Moments like these made it difficult for Enjolras to remember that Gavroche is still a kid despite his unnatural amount of sass.

“My seminar was cancelled, the professor didn’t show up.” 

Gavroche slung his worn jacket on the back of the barstool adjacent to student’s. 

“Lucky you.” 

The man shook his head, then gestured to the heaps of work on the counter in front of him with his shoulder before looking back at the boy. 

“Not really, Gavroche. I’ve got lots of work to do now because that pompous asshole decided to take the day off without telling anyone.” 

Something in the mind of the chief clicked, as he looked at the child who was sporting an unfashionable black eye and a scooby doo bandaid on his forehead.

“What happened to you?” 

Gavroche shrugged at the question before plopping himself on the stool his jacket was hanging off of. 

“Navet and I got in a fight today. Trust me, he looks way worse.” 

Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of the boy who was supposedly his mentee’s best friend. 

“Navet? Aren’t you two friends?” 

Gavroche looked down at his beaten up sneakers that were wrapped with hockey tape so the sole would not fall off the shoe completely. 

His shoes had been a pretty good target for bullies at school to tease him about. 

Gavroche couldn’t give two shits. 

“We were.”

Enjolras sighed, beginning to piece the scene together internally. 

“And this is the reason you got sent home early?” 

The child nodded. 

“It was either get sent home or stay for ‘In School Suspension’ until four. I think I made the right choice, don't you?” 

Enjolras’s mouth closed into a tight, serious line, indicating that he was pondering about something. 

He truly had no idea how to interact properly with children, but this was worth a shot. 

“What was the fight about?” 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“Navet pushed me.” 

Enjolras took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that he wouldn’t be getting back to work any time soon. 

“Well, did you deserve it?” 

Gavroche thought for a second, replaying the incident out in his head in an attempt to see if he was at fault. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

The student, a usual workaholic who plunged himself into mountains of tedious work decided that getting to the bottom of this seemed more important than completing his six assignments. 

Even the strongest pieces of marble have cracks sometimes. 

“I doubt he just pushed you without a reason.” 

Gavroche bit the inside of his cheek, growing a bit bashful at the badgering from his mentor. 

“I might’ve called him a douchecanoe.” 

Enjolras sighed. 

“And there it is.” 

Gavroche huffed, growing a little frustrated. 

“Well, he deserved it. I’m not sorry.” 

“I never asked you to apologize, I just want to know what happened.” 

The boy bit the inside of his cheek again, frowning.

“He was telling people about the elephant.” 

Enjolras was clueless. 

“The elephant?” 

Gavroche huffed in annoyance. 

“Yes, the elephant. That’s where I usually live. It’s a little shack I built in the slums.”

Enjolras blinked a few times trying to process the groundbreaking revelations the boy had set aflame in his mind. 

He knew that Éponine and Azelma still begrudgingly lived with their sexist father, so the thought of Gavroche not living with the nuclear family that is the Thénardier clan was a tad confusing. 

“Gavroche who do you live with?” 

The boy sighed, knowing that he’d have to explain his case sooner or later to the chief. 

“That’s a little complicated. Right now I’m bunking with Courf, Pontmercy, and R. That can always change, though.” 

Enjolras blinked, a little overwhelmed with all the new information that the child beside him was disclosing. 

“I have all the brain cells clearly, but they’re fun.” 

Grantaire had been a sore spot of discussion for the mentor and the mentee, for Gavroche was always trying to set his two role models up together. 

“R’s even teaching me how to play piano. I’m not very good at reading sheet music, but it gives us something to do.” 

Enjolras had never pictured Grantaire playing piano, but after the boy started talking that was all he could picture. 

The man picked up his mug of coffee, pressing the porcelain against his lips, taking a sip of the dark room temperature liquid.

“Are you two going to date?” 

Enjolras choked on the liquid and slammed the mug on the counter.

“Gavroche, you can’t just ask questions like that.” 

The boy shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well I obviously can, and I just did. Answer the question, Enjolras.” 

The man felt the tips of his ears blush redder than his jacket, to which he responded to by looking back down at his essay, deciding to ignore the question altogether. 

“No, absolutely not. Look, I’m busy. Go do whatever it is ten year olds do so I can get back to work.” 

Gavroche laughed. 

“I’m eleven, so jokes on you because your statement doesn’t even apply to me.” 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

The boy rolled his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with how birthdays work. I _was_ ten, now I’m eleven.” 

Enjorlas thought for a second in an attempt to remember if Courfeyrac had sent out a reminder in their group chat or if Éponine had mentioned that. 

“When was your birthday?” 

“Oh, it’s today.” 

“Today?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s sort of why I’m here. Madame Hucheloup usually makes me something for my birthday. She’s really warmed up to me since I stopped stealing from the kitchen.” 

Enjolras raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“You used to steal from Madame Hucheloup?” 

As if on cue, the resident mother hen of the Musain shuffled out of the kitchen holding a plate with a chocolate chip muffin topped with a dollop of vanilla frosting.

“He and his little band of lost boys would terrorize these parts, even stealing meat pies from window sills occasionally. That is, until I caught him red handed one day and chased him with a broom.” 

Enjolras laughed lightly, picturing the scene in his head. 

Gavroche’s face was burning red, the cause being sheer embarrassment, and he desperately wanted to change subjects to avoid utter humiliation. 

“Well, I have to go finish some orders, but I’ll see you two later.” 

And with that Madame Hucheloup exited just as she came, humming a tune from times long forgotten as she went. 

Enjolras cleared his throat. 

“You two seem close.” 

Gavroche nodded. 

“She’s the closest thing I have to a mother.” 

Madame Hucheloup and Gavroche had grown from foes to having a mother - son dynamic, something easily formed because the child was self proclaimed to be motherless and the woman had been barren. 

“That’s nice.” 

Enjolras concentrated for a second, recalling celebrations for everyone else’s birthday except Gavroche’s. 

“How come you’ve never mentioned your birthday before?” 

The boy turned his head, displaying a mouthful of chocolate sponge and smudged frosting left behind in the corners of his mouth. 

“It never really came up in conversation. I‘m usually in school anyways.” 

Enjolras frowned, as he couldn’t tell if the child was telling the truth or not. 

“We could’ve celebrated at night, you should’ve told someone, you should’ve told _me_.” 

Gavroche bit his lip, a guilty expression falling upon his face. 

“No disrespect Enjolras, but you’d be the last person I’d tell. I didn’t think you’d really care about birthdays.” 

The student shrugged his shoulders at the statement, having known that his friends saw him as some stone god than as a human every once in a while. 

“Do you know how to ride a bicycle?” 

“I’ve always wanted a bike, but I can’t see myself having much use of it.” 

Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Why not?” 

Gavroche sheepishly looked away, keeping his gaze on the Musain’s front window, taking an interest in the help wanted sign. 

“My dad taught Azelma and Èponine when they were little, he never bothered with me.” 

Memories of watching his older sisters ride tricycles and how proud his mother looked when his father took off their training wheels played in his mind like a film, suddenly getting that overwhelming feeling of being forgotten, yet again. 

Enjolras cleared his throat, trying to draw the boy back into reality, as it seemed like he had zoned out. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The elder of the pair started organizing his mountainous stack of papers into a neat pile. 

“Gavroche you don’t have to apologize to me, alright? Now get your coat on, we’re going on a mission.” 

The boy jumped off of his stool and excitedly put his worn jacket on, thrilled for the chance to go on a mission with his hero, even if he didn’t know what it was about. 

“Need any help?” 

Enjolras laughed lightly, putting the papers into his black leather briefcase that had been leaned up against the bar. 

“I’m alright, son. Just give me a second.” 

The boy couldn’t explain why, but being called ‘son’ by Enjolras had instantly become one of his favorite things. 

In the meantime, Gavroche fished through his pocket, grabbed the euro and put it into the tip jar, as rules were rules, and he never accepts charity. 

Enjolras fasted the buckle on his briefcase then picked it up by his handle and looked over at his young friend. 

“Ready?” 

Gavroche nodded, sending his golden curls flying in several different directions. 

“Ready.” 

The student then led his mentee out of the café, being sure to nod a goodbye to Madame Hucheloup before exiting. 

They walked side by side on the icy pavement quietly for a while until Gavroche broke the silence. 

“So what are we doing?” 

Enjolras looked down at the boy, not in the least bit surprised at his random surges of energy. 

“We’re going to Combeferre’s parents’ house.” 

Gavroche raised an eyebrow at that. 

“Why are we going there?” 

The student shook his head, as if to say that he wasn’t answering any further questions. 

That wouldn’t do, so Gavroche kept pushing. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re going to Combeferre’s parents’ house without Combeferre?” 

Enjolras shrugged his shoulders, trying to remain elusive. 

“I’ve known Combeferre since I was three, his parents are practically my parents. They’ll be thrilled to see me, and I’m sure they’ll enjoy meeting you as well.” 

Gavroche raised an eyebrow. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, You’re Éponine’s little brother.” 

The child was clueless. 

“So what?” 

He had never noticed the soft smiles his bookish friend gave his sister of the gentle offers of helping her study back when Éponine was still in school. 

“Combeferre is very fond of your sister. Now let’s get a move on, we don’t want to take too long.” 

Gavroche nodded, still unsure of the objectives of the mission or why Combeferre had told his parents about Éponine

They reached their destination in record time, and Gavroche’s eyes were hawking at the black striped yellow Camaro in the driveway. 

“Woah, they’ve got Bumblebee.” 

Enjolras nodded, even though he didn’t understand the boy’s pop culture reference then knocked on the door. 

Within thirty seconds or so, a middle age couple in turtleneck sweaters answered the door, smiles growing wide at Enjolras’ presence.

“Alexandre! What a surprise, come in, come in.” 

Gavroche raised an eyebrow. 

“ _Alexandre_?” 

The first woman laughed. 

“So I take it the phase of calling each other by their surname hasn’t gone away yet, hmm?” 

The little boy laughed, smirking a bit. 

“They’re so weird!” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, knowing that Gavroche would go by his surname at the drop of a hat if he was asked. 

“This is Gavroche, he’s Éponine’s little brother.” 

The second woman smiled warmly. 

“How do you do, little man?” 

The boy cleared his throat, unsure of how to respond properly. 

“How do I do what?” 

The adults laughed, and Gavroche couldn’t pinpoint why what he said was so funny. 

Enjolras cleared his throat.

“I’m just here to get something from the garage. Can you keep him occupied for a few minutes while I get it?” 

The first woman smiled, happy to have a child in the house for the first time in forever. 

She missed her son and his ragtag little group of friends creating ruckuses, or in simpler words, ‘the good old days’. 

“Of course, Gavroche we were just about to make some hot chocolate, do you want some?” 

The little boy nodded, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to take things from strangers, but making an exception because they’re Combeferre’s parents and Combeferre is still breathing so they must have been pretty good parents. 

“Thanks.” 

And with that, Combeferre’s moms escorted Gavroche inside and into their farm themed kitchen. 

“So, what happened to your face, sugar?” 

The little boy plopped himself onto a kitchen stool. 

“Oh, I got in a fight on the playground today.” 

The second woman got three mugs from the cupboard. 

“Cecile, do you remember when Henri got into a scuffle with Alexandre on the playground?” 

The first woman, Cecile, chuckled lightly as she stood on her toes to reach the tin of cocoa powder mix. 

“Of course, how could I forget?” 

Gavroche began to feel jealous of Combeferre as he listened to his friends’ mothers reminisce about the old days. 

The child couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he got stuck with such asshats as parents. 

It really wasn’t fair. 

Cecile grabbed the tin and put it on the counter, reading the directions. 

“Gavroche, do you have any allergies?” 

He shook his head. 

“Not that I know of.” 

She nodded before looking over at her wife. 

“Therese, can you get the almond milk?” 

The second woman, Therese, nodded opening the fridge and looked for the almond milk. 

“How is your family?” 

He honestly didn’t know, but he could bend the truth and they’d never know. 

“They’re alright, I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t really seen them.” 

That wasn’t a complete lie. 

Just as a question about Éponine was about to be asked, Enjolras walked in through the door leading from the garage. 

“Gav, are you ready to go?” 

Although he didn’t get any hot chocolate, the little boy was more than ready to go and he slid off of his stool. 

He didn’t need any more reminders on how shitty his parents treated him. 

This day couldn’t end soon enough. 

“Where to next, Enjolras?” 

The student laughed, causing the little boy to feel somewhat sheepish. 

“Now, that’s a surprise, Gavroche. First I have to show you your present from Combeferre and I.” 

The little boy turned to face Cecile and Therese, who smiled kindly at him. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stay for hot chocolate.” 

Therese shook her head at his apology. 

“Don’t worry about it, sugar. You go on now, and say hello to Éponine for us.” 

Gavroche nodded, still a little weary about how they knew so much about his sister. 

It’s not like Combeferre talks about her, right? 

Enjolras led Gavroche through the garage and stopped when the little boy’s birthday present was in sight. 

It was a bicycle, a bit rusty for have been sitting in the garage for God knows how long, but a bicycle nevertheless. 

It was something that the little boy had mentioned wanting, but had never dreamed of actually owning. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Language.” 

The child cringed slightly. 

“Sorry.” 

Gavroche lightly ran his hand over the handles, mentally flashing back in time to watch his sisters ride their bikes and hearing his parents so proud of their shining daughters.

“This is for me?” 

No Enjolras nodded, resting his hands on his hips, standing in an almost righteous pose. 

“Combeferre was going to recycle it but I figured you’d appreciate it a lot more.” 

Gavroche was about to protest, saying he doesn’t like accepting handouts, but Enjolras rested his right hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“This is yours now, happy birthday.” 

Other than the chocolate chip muffin from Madame Hucheloup, or his one stuffed dog he got from Azlema and Éponine, this was his first birthday present. 

“Thank you.” 

Enjolras crouched down to Gavroche’s level. 

“I’ll teach you how to ride it in the summer, alright, bud?” 

The little boy nodded, feeling tears begin to form in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away and looked over at Combeferre’s moms. 

“Thanks for the bike.” 

Therese smiled softly. 

“No problem, sugar. Now, go and enjoy your birthday.” 

Gavroche nodded, then turned and started walking with his bike in toe, dropping his smile as soon as he turned away. 

Enjolras immediately caught wind that something was wrong because the little boy was walking away from him quite quickly. 

“Why are you walking so fast?” 

Gavroche kept walking, guiding his bike alongside the pavement. 

“I’m not.” 

Enjolras huffed. 

“Yes you are. Is something wrong?” 

The little boy scoffed, beginning to act very out of character. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Enjolras thought for a second before clearing his throat. 

“Is this about your birthday?”

Gavroche froze and lessened his grip on the bicycle handles. 

“Maybe.” 

“How come you’ve never mentioned your birthday to anyone?” 

The boy sighed a little, waiting for Enjolras to catch up to where he was on the sidewalk. 

“Do you really want to know?” 

The student nodded, knowing that this was probably what was upsetting his young friend. 

“It’s a long story.” 

The older of the pair looked down at his young friend. 

“There’s no rush, take your time.” 

Gavroche had never opened up to anyone about how he ended up where he was, and had never imagined that the first person he’d be telling would be Enjolras. 

“My parents owned an inn when I was little, but we lost it because my father had a gambling addiction.” 

He kicked a pebble on the sidewalk into the street. 

“When they lost it they wanted to save some money, so they figured the easiest thing to do was get rid of one of us. So when I turned six my father pulled me from my sister’s arms and put me in the car.” 

Enjolras felt his hands at his sides tighten into fists. 

“But you were just a child, surely they wouldn’t just leave you-” 

Gavroche shrugged his shoulders. 

“He drove me to Paris and left me sitting on a curb. I’ve only seen them briefly after that.” 

The chief cleared the lump in his throat, and the little boy continued. 

“It just sucks, you know. Today’s just a reminder of how shitty that day was. Tomorrow will be just like any other day, but I allow myself to be upset about it on my birthday.” 

Enjolras stared wide-eyed at Gavroche, a little shocked about how guarded he was about his feelings. 

“I won’t tell you that I understand, because I haven’t walked in your shoes. But I want you to know that you are loved, that you can always talk to me or anyone else about this and that we’ll be your family now.” 

The little boy blinked, trying to stop himself from crying. 

Today was an emotional day, sprinkled with reminders of how the world is unfair to the underdog.

“Thanks, Apollo.” 

Soon enough, Gavroche and Enjolras found themselves outside of a dimly lit Musain, which confused the child. 

“Why is it so dark? What’s going on?” 

The older of the pair did not answer, he simply held the door open and watched as his young friend hesitantly walked inside. 

The lights flashed on, causing the little boy to jump back, and everyone popped out of their hiding places. 

“Surprise!” 

Gavroche laughed a little when he realized what the situation was, and turned back to look at Enjolras. 

“I’m guessing this was your idea?” 

The student cracked a smile. 

“It was a joined effort, really, Combeferre thought of the present, Feuilly and Bahorel got the decorations, Courfeyrac helped get everyone together, Marius got his phone taken away so he wouldn’t accidentally text the wrong group chat, and I kept you busy.” 

For someone that had never had a birthday party thrown for him, or a proper celebration of a birthday at all, this mattered a lot to the little boy. 

“Well thank you, everyone. You’re the best family someone could ask for.” 

And for the first time in a long time, Gavroche put the past behind him and got the birthday he deserved. 

  
  



End file.
